


Finding The Stars

by orphan_account



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-05-02 02:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19189963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: There was a girl lying outside, Bran had been told. Unconscious in the snow and alone in the world.





	1. Chapter 1

BRAN

There was a girl outside, lying in the snow. Unconscious and alone in the world.

“In the winter, we must protect ourselves - look after one another,” is what Bran Stark, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Six Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm quoted before allowing his men to carry her in. Gently. Bran had a feeling he knew who it was, but he had no idea if that was the Three-Eyed Raven talking or him. Who was he kidding? It was and will always be the Raven.

He waited, patiently, like he always did. With his back against the Iron Throne, it was more comfortable than it seemed, almost like it was built for him. Even though many disagreed with that and said it was built for different people. Those other potential rulers had never achieved the amount of peace in Westeros compared to King Bran, but perhaps that had something to do with the uprising of King’s Landing.

The sound of the doors opening and footsteps dipped in wet snow, tapping against the clean floors of throne room, filled Bran’s ears with displeasure, but of course, he would never show that. The guards’ uniform clink as they step forward, slowly because of the passenger in their arms.

She was fragile. And pale, as well. She almost blended in with the harsh snow of the winter, especially with the frail sheepskin cloak that barely covered her legs. The thing that made her stand out though, was her hair. It had grown, since the last time Bran saw her, down to her stomach. It still had the same curly style; it would never change. And God, he could tell her stomach was thinner than before, which said something. When was the last time she ate?

Even before she was clearly in his vision, Bran recognised her. Lady Meera Reed of Greywater Watch. 

“Where shall we put her, your grace?” one of the guards asked. 

Bran looked towards him. “Take her to a new chamber, make sure it is clean. If not, find another one that is clean. Lie her in the bed and guard outside. He turned his head to the other guard. “You, tell the kitchen to prepare a lot of food for the lady.”

“Yes, your grace,” they both said, going opposite ways. Bran watched Meera’s almost lifeless body fade away whilst being carried.

-

He waited and waited. He waited as long as he could before the human impatience deep down inside his now three-eyed raven-infested body took over. With a halt, he sat up on his bed and called for his guard outside of his extravagant bedroom.

Bran still needed help with the chair that can wheel him in and out of places independently, if he pushes them either side of him. Eventually though, he’ll learn to sit on it by himself. After sitting him down, the guard asked if Bran needed anything else, but with the simple answer of, “no,” he was off to a certain chamber.

The only sound through the dark halls of the castle were the rolling of the wheels, as he slowly checked each empty chamber. He already knew which one to stop at though. And by the hopes that maybe, just maybe, she was awake, his knuckles subtly knocked on the door.

He knew it was too good to be true.

Opening the door and going inside the room, the scent of unacknowledged roast filled his nostrils. The sight of her colourless body draped over the bed and under the covers came into his vision, making him feel even hollower.

Feelings. That was weird. He thought it would’ve taken his reunions with his three alive siblings in order for him to feel anything. 

No, the one who helped him survive but wasn’t even awake hit him with slight emotions he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

He already felt like his mother, Catelyn, waiting for her moronic son to wake up, after he’d just got pushed out of a window. He remembered everything now, even if he didn’t before. He remembered his mother yelling at Jon Snow beside Bran’s almost deathbed, he remembered her refusing to let Old Nan take over whilst Catelyn slept. He remembered her saying she would come back.

He snapped out of his thoughts when the bright flame of a candle blurred his vision and he shook his head in defeat. What was the point? He thought. Meera could have stayed out there to die, to rot and to fade, but he wouldn’t even care.

Turning around to leave, his chair accidentally knocked an iron glass over, resulting in a loud crash. It made him wince, at the sound and the sight of water all over the floor. However the first thing he should’ve noticed was the jolt of Meera’s body.


	2. Chapter 2

MEERA

Meera’s body woke with a shock, making her heart pound and her stomach rumble - out of panic and hunger. The first thing her eyes landed on was Bran, causing them to widen. Or should she say, King Bran, as she heard. Yep, she was definitely dead and waiting for the Gods to decide whether she’d go to heaven or hell.

She had not seen him in so long. When she last did, he was obviously grown, but now — he was a man.

Pain throbbed all throughout her body. It felt like she’d been running without a break. Milk of the poppy probably wouldn’t even solve it, not that she had the chance to use it lately.

“Meera.” Bran stared straight at her, with his glare she knew all too well. Of course, he would state her name, rather than question it. The three-eyed raven would never question anything, she sarcastically thought.

It was surprising she even remembered the Three-Eyed Raven. She remembered everything, well, nearly everything. She remembered too fast of course, like how she sat up, resulting in a overpowering migraine. She opened her mouth to speak, but she struggled to get something out.

“You need water...” Bran trailed off, actually looking confused. She had only been awake about a minute or two, and she was already lucky enough to experience him going through a genuine human emotion? She missed a lot. 

Luckily, there was a metal cup, that used to be next to the one that dropped. He picked it up and made his way to her. She couldn’t help but notice how he moved the chair himself, and her eyes flickered down to the wheels on the bottom. What an odd contraption. Although, why was he serving it to her, and not a servant?

She shouldn’t be wondering about silly things like that, but instead about how in Seven Hells did she get there? She had a feeling it had something to do with falling, since it felt like her head was going to fall off of her neck soon enough. She attempted to gulp down her thoughts and worries with water, but ending up choking anyways.

Bran patted her back, not hard enough for her to stop coughing. “Slow sips, Lady Meera. Careful.” He rubbed her back with his warm hand when she almost stopped coughing. She felt her body heat up, because of embarrassment or his hand, she didn’t know. 

Lady Meera. How pointless that was now.

“Your-” Her throat was still store, as she tried to call him your grace. She wanted to lace the greeting in sarcasm, but she didn’t have the heart. There was some kind of new wit to her - she was unsure - and perhaps it had something to do with travelling all the way to her “home” to discover everyone she loves is dead. Well, the last part was not a discovery; she had lost Jojen, but now everyone else was gone as well. “How did I...how did I get here?”

“My apologies for awakening you,” he spoke calmly, smoothly dodging her question. He was probably unable to decode her thoughts and feelings. She didn’t reply, so he went on, “I am leaving now. We may speak in the morning.” He turned around and went to the door, beginning to let himself out.

Why? Why was he like this? He owed it to her, a girl who woke up in the place she ran away from, to explain everything. Begging wouldn’t help, but she had to try. The only thing she needed was effort and surprisingly some was still there.

“Wait.”

Bran turned his head, but looked down so he wasn’t looking at her. Her hands were either side of her on the bed, as if she was about to stand up. “Yes?”

“Why won’t you tell me?” Her tone wasn’t rude; it never was. It was more sad and betrayed. Even if Bran had betrayed her a long time ago. 

“I-“ Bran stopped himself from continuing; he didn’t know what he was going to say. With shame he didn’t know he had, he looked away.

“Is it that bad?” Her eyes were piercing into him now, like a knife in a wound. Now she was begging. Sure, it may come back to her later, but she didn’t want to realise what happened. She wanted to see if Bran would lie to her.

“I wouldn’t know,” he finally said.

Her eyebrows furrowed. “I thought the Three-Eyed Raven knew everything.” She was using it against him now, but he wouldn’t care.

“Not unpredictable things,” he answered, nonchalant. 

“And I’m unpredictable?” she dared to ask.

“Very.”

She didn’t know what he was talking about; she was always predictable. And typical. Silence overtook them like a tide in the Summer Sea. She then realised Bran woke her up in the night, from him telling her he’d talk to her in the morning. “How late is it?”

“Midnight.” He paused, hesitating, but continued, “my apologies.”

“I’ll fall back asleep, unless...” she trailed off, getting an idea. “I can leave?”

“Why? Absolutely not.” He had this strictness in his tone, fit for a king. Not strict like any of the Baratheon’s or anything, but just enough firmness. Although, that wasn’t as if Meera was happy he used that tone. 

“I’m not your responsibility, Bran,” she said. She most definitely shouldn’t be speaking to him like this, with no formalities and rudeness, but she didn’t care. Would he have her killed if she continued to be impolite, she had no idea. She wondered if he had done any unnecessary killing lately or if he’s just not that king. Perhaps the Raven had a wild side.

“A civilian of Westeros is found almost dead on the floor outside of King’s Landing is my responsibility. I don’t leave out anyone as a king.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Meera fought the urge to roll her eyes. Her head hurt far too much more it.

“A civilian? If that’s how you’re going to act, Bran, then what’s the point in me talking to you about what happened? It’s not like we have ever confided in each other.” The last part was sarcasm, but Bran didn’t get it. Instead, Meera just felt guilt and anger at the same time. Deep down, somewhere, the real Bran was upset by what she said.

“If you’re going to speak to me like this, I won’t ever let you leave.” And now he was threatening her! How dare he act like a complete prick, after everything she did for him? Dragging a man across Westeros was not an easy thing to do for her, but she still did it.

“I suppose you won’t ever leave either,” She was mumbling, but wishing she could say it louder in heat of the moment.

“That is enough,” he declared. “I’ll speak to you in the morning at 10am sharp.”


End file.
